


Prompt #43

by GlitterBombLove



Series: Prompts - 90 Challenge [43]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Fantasy, Flash Fic, Prompt Fic, Space Opera, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterBombLove/pseuds/GlitterBombLove
Summary: Prompt #43February 16, 2021Genre: Fantasy / Space OperaPrompt Idea: baby, androidSource: Original
Series: Prompts - 90 Challenge [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052597





	Prompt #43

**PART 1**

When the sands trembled under Deimos feet and loosened from the walls of his underground hut, he knew something was falling from the sky. He scrambled quickly outside and stared above. He saw a spacecraft in free fall and ablaze, careening towards sandy hills beyond. A scream of a powerful engine pierced his ears. A rumbling sonic boom surrounded him and he could feel his skin tingle. A few moments later, there was a great flash and explosion, shaking the terrain and telling him the crash was nearby.

He burrowed back into the sand dome and retrieved a carrying sack and old coat. They were all prized finds from scavenging. He had been lucky on those days when he got to the wreckage faster than anyone else. He wasn't a fighter, but he was small, quick and sometimes lucky.

He pumped his legs as fast as he could and scurried up the dunes. He wished his small child's body was bigger and stronger. He wanted to be a man so badly - so he could run fast to crash sites and fend off anyone for the best spaceship parts. He hated scavenging, usually finding worthless rubble and always afraid. He promised himself one day he would grow up to be a powerful man feared by others.

Deimos arrived to the wreckage and his heart fell. The area was swarming with people pounding and tearing pieces out of the broken aircraft already. Multiple fights broke out over valuable debris. The stronger women and men were yanking at the engine and gears from the weaker scavengers. Fists flew and clubs pounded bodies.

He saw the pilot next to the space ship and the poor man was in bad shape - some parts of him were burned. The pilot was dead. The hoard had stripped him bare because the survivor lay completely naked except for the sand, burnt flesh and raw gashes. Deimos' stomach knotted and he almost cried. He forced his eyes away from the man. Stop being a soft baby, Deimos cursed himself. Stop looking! Keep searching!

Deimos scanned the ground, dodging the large adults. Something caught his eye and glinted in the sand! It must have been trampled and buried under foot. Quickly he dashed towards it and dug. He pulled out a metallic rod and instantly knew it was a laser gun. This was a treasure of countless fortune! He trembled and examined the gun in the palm of his hand. His rapture was broken by sharp blow to the side of his skull.

He saw starbursts and fell over. He looked up and saw the bottom of boot lowering to stomp his head. Deimos rolled away, narrowly avoiding being crushed violently. He saw a large bald man with a scar running from his brow to mouth.

"Little worm, give me the weapon!" The man hulked over Deimos. "I'll scrape you from the bottom of my shoe next time."

"It's mine!" Deimos scrambled to his feet. "I found it first.".

"See if you can keep it." Lip-Scar growled. He lunged at Deimos.

Deimos dodged the man and shakily aimed the weapon. He fumbled and pressed buttons but nothing happened. He lacked any knowledge on using it. Lip-Scar snorted and yanked the gun right from Deimos grip. The gun lit up immediately. 

Deimos started running, his heart beating frantically. He looked over his shoulder and saw Lip-Scar pointing the weapon at him. Their scuffle must have attracted attention because several people dove on Lip-Scar's back, reaching for the weapon. More people piled on top and Lip-Scar disappeared under the heap. 

Deimos sprinted and hid behind a mound. He decided to wait out the mob. As the sky darkened, he watched skirmish after skirmish (Lip-Scar lost the weapon to a bigger man), witnessed the wounded dragged away and the aircraft reduced to useless rubble. No one carried away the pilot. He deserved at least a burial, Deimos thought. Maybe he could return in a few days and cover him with sand if his remains were still there. 

Deimos hoped the crowd would leave soon. He rubbed his head and blinked back tears. One day he would be big enough to jump into the fray, he promised himself. He would be mighty. He was tired of being pushed around, hiding and being scared all the time. One day he would hit, pound and hurt and take what he wanted from whomever he wanted. He wanted strength so much he could taste it.

He was puzzled why a good sized group, including Lip-Scar, still remained. He wasn't sure why people still hung around. Deimos watched with interest as people circled around something on the ground. They seemed to be taking turns kicking and clubbing what looked like a silver box. No one was able to get close to it. They threw rocks and scraps at the box, only to have the objects be deflected. Everything they threw richocheted back with doubled force. 

Deimos strained his ear to listen and heard someone announce to the group. 

"There's something good in there. We'll need a force neutralizer from the village. We'll need a large crew to haul it here. It's going to be heavy."

Deimos saw most of the crowd volunteered to retrieve the neutralizer. They left and brought the beast haulers with them. Only few people, including Lip-Scar, stayed behind. Lip-Scar was sitting on the ground, eating a hard tac and chugging a drink. Deimos saw Lip-Scar was leaning against many parts he won from the wreckage. 

Deimos stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten since morning and he was hungry. If he could find even a few nuts or bolts, perhaps he could barter them for food. Deimos waited and watched for Lip-Scar to doze off and his head to flop to the side before he stepped away from hiding.

Carefully he tiptoed around the outer perimeter and began searching the ground. He stopped at the remains of the pilot. He looked away. No one had bothered to help the survivor. Deimos knew his was a savage planet. He knew his people would just leave the body for the predators. His stomach knotted. He felt sickened again. 

He shrugged off his flimsy coat. This would be the only funeral ceremony this man would get, but it seemed the right thing to do. He draped his jacket over the pilot's body to cover his nakedness. He knew this was a foolish thing and a waste of a precious jacket someone would certainly pick up. But Deimos felt his stomach ease for doing this act.

"Klarta Barl," Deimos whispered shamefully and felt tears in his eyes. The universal phrase for "I am sorry".

The man moved. A strangled choke rattled in the man's throat. Deimos drew back in shock and saw the pilot's eyes open slightly. There was still life in him. 

He looked over to Lip-Scar now snoring soundly. Deimos didn't know what to do. He reached for his canteen and brought it to the pilot's singed lips and poured. The man shook his head slightly. 

With a mangled hand raised only an inch off the ground, the man feebly gestured. With his fingers, slowly he made signs and dropped his hand. He raised his hand and repeated the same gestures and pointed in the direction of the box. The hands went limp.

Deimos knit his brows in confusion. He shook the man several times but there was no response. He was gone. 

He stood up and looked around. The pilot seemed to be pointing at the box. Slowly Deimos tiptoed over and passed Lip-Scar who was now mumbling and seemed to be reliving the fights of the day in his sleep. 

Deimos drew closer to the box. He could hear the barrier humming around it. A filmy mass around the box shimmered up close. When he held up his hand to it and pressed against it, he felt something almost doughy but he could see nothing. When he gently pressed, he felt the something press back forcefully. 

He bit his lip and remembered. He mimicked pilot's gestures. He rounded his fingers into a circle. He held five fingers, then one finger, and finally four fingers. He held his hand in a fist before dropping it to his side.

Immediately he felt a whooshing breeze against him. There was no more resistance against his hand. The release sounded like a sigh. And the small box unlatched and lowered on all sides. Deimos peered inside and saw a tiny metallic orb with intricate designs etched on it. 

Quickly, he reached and grabbed it. He stuffed it into his satchel and looked over his shoulder. He was not going to make the same mistake again. He stepped quietly away and rushed towards the dunes, heading into the desert.

His heart slammed against his chest. He did not know what it was but he knew this was something special.

**PART 2**

He rushed back to his sand hut. He was fairly sure no one followed him. He knew his tracks would be hard to follow in the dark and the numerous windstorms would cover them entirely in awhile.

He crawled into his little dome and struck a old light rod. He rummaged for something to eat. He found some strips of dried plants and his last bread cake. He gobbled them up hungrily and finished the rest of the water in his canteen. When he finished, he burrowed under a blanket, feeling drowsy. The wind began howling outside. Tomorrow he might possess a fortune, he thought with hope. He was certain the traders would pay top 

He felt badly again about the pilot. Again he cursed his smallness and weakness. He felt shamed he did not do more. But he would not have been able to carry the man to safety. Deimos was without allies to help him much less a stranger. The only thing he could offer was to cover him as he died. 

Deimos sighed and opened up his sack, drawing out the orb. He marveled at the intricate designs. He held it up to his ear and could hear a faint ticking. The ticking was rhythmic and soothing. His eyelids lowered and he felt suddenly heavy. The ticking grew louder and seemed to sync with his heartbeat.

His fingertips tingling, he felt a gentle vibration from the object. His eyes widened as he realized the orb was drawing towards his chest. He started to panic and tried pulling the object away. 

The metallic ball resisted his attempts to pull it away. He wrapped both hands and pushed. He began to fear if he let go, it would smash his chest and heart. He whimpered as he struggled against it. 

He felt a rough tug away and the ball tore from his grip. He cried aloud expecting a painful strike against his ribs. But the ball only rolled around with a gentle pressure until if found a spot in the middle of his chest. 

It was on his heart.

Deimos tried to flail his arms and legs, trying to knock the orb off but he felt his entire body pinned down. His heart was beating wildly and the cursed object ticked loudly with the same erratic pattern and amplified. Tears ran down his cheeks. He was frightened in earnest as he struggled to kick his legs. He screamed but his voice was muffled in his throat. He fought more frantically as the thing quaked on his heart.

The object shuddered and the decorative engravings began to loosen and split into nano fragments. The circular shape seemed to pulse, bloom and crumble in uncountable bits which looked like bugs crawling in a swarm. Some pieces fit into others, while other parts whirred and rearranged into different shapes. Different metal colors - golden, iridescent green, black, gray - glinted in the dim light.

The shape morphed once again and shuddered before going completely still. The form had doubled in size and rested in sitting position with stubby appendages splayed on Deimos' chest. A globe held two circular green lights both fixed on his face. A string of metallic sounds plinked and chirped from the globe. 

Little arms reached out to him.


End file.
